Red and Black
by DebbieB
Summary: Tracy looks for the perfect outfit to wear to the reopening of the Haunted Star. LuNacy UST.


It was a beautiful dress, really. Tracy studied her reflection in the dressing room mirror, fighting against her own perfectionist nature. How long had it been since she'd worn something like this, something form-fitting and low-cut and slinky? How long had she been trapped in her mother's closet, cycling and recycling through loose-fitting outfits that camouflaged and covered and diverted the eye from her appearance?

It galled her on some level to be here, in this boutique where they'd forgotten her once-familiar face, skulking through the racks trying to find something that was both sexy and appropriate.

When had appropriate become an issue? Had it always been an issue? She turned slightly, admiring the low-slung back on the dress, how it accentuated her pale skin, how it drew the eye to her waist, which was still slender despite the rapid skid into sixty she was on.

It galled her that Luke had sent her here, scrounging like some ten-cent debutante through the sexiest dresses she'd allowed herself to try on, fighting against her own better judgment to prove something.

Who was she trying to convince? The fabric clung to her body, a gorgeous red silk cut to accentuate both height and curves, off the shoulders, slit up the side.

Who was she trying to convince? Luke? Skye?

Or herself? Tracy leaned forward. The lighting in this room was flattering, one of the main calling cards of the boutique in her opinion. So many places used fluorescents--ugly light that added years to her age.

But here, she realized as she stretched her hands upward to lift her hair in an tentative updo, she was in her best light.

Tracy Quartermaine. Too short. Aging. She'd had more brains than beauty at her peak, and even in this fantastic light, Tracy felt the sting of that peak far behind her.

Who was she trying to impress? The dress was gorgeous. She looked amazing in it. There was no narcissism as she examined how the dress flattered and fit, just a practical assessment of her appearance. She looked slimmer than she did in her usual flowing outfits, more curvaceous, younger even. Her throat seemed almost swanlike, and her shoulders were smooth and elegant. The right pair of shoes, and those "gams" Luke had praised earlier that day would look like a million bucks.

Tracy closed her eyes.

She didn't want to see the woman in the mirror, that sensual ghost who stared back at her with accusing eyes. She didn't want to feel the burn of it in her chest, this desire to dress to please a man.

It had been so long since she'd done anything to please anyone but herself. She didn't like the feel of it anymore, not for a long, long time. Too many people had turned her attempts to please against her, had taken advantage of her innate desire to be…

What?

Loved? Admired? Desired?

When she opened her eyes again, Tracy saw the years on her face like an accusation. She really had given up on herself. She was an attractive woman, the rational part of her had to admit. In the right light, in the right moment, she could be beautiful.

In the right light, she could be a creature of desire once more. She could almost feel it, her desire, pushing at her chest, fighting to get out from that cold place where she'd locked it away so many years ago.

It wanted to come out and play. It wanted to be held. It wanted to lose itself in a man's arms, one man's arms, one man's kiss, the way it had done so many times before. Before she got wise. Before she got smart. Before life had proven to her without reservation or qualification just how stupid it was to trust love and desire.

Tracy Quartermaine was a passionate woman. The fact is, had she not channeled it, harnessed it, learned to control it with as fierce a hand as she controlled her sons or her money, Tracy's passion would have been her downfall.

The dress was beautiful, she thought sadly as she watched the light play off her hair. He would stare, jaw slack, as she walked on to the Haunted Star. He would try to play it off as a joke, but she knew that Luke would want her if she showed up in this outfit. She knew he would try to cover it, and almost succeed.

She knew, if she wanted to, she could seduce him.

"Ms. Quartermaine?" The attendant sounded like she was fourteen. She knocked on the door to the dressing room.

"Yes?"

"How's the dress?"

Tracy just stared for a moment. It would be so easy to show up in this dress, to blow them all away, to claim her husband in front of Skye and God and any other lowlife who dared question her right to have any man she wanted. It would be so easy just to give in to it, to plunge her heart once more into the treacherous landscape of love and desire.

"Do you have the black?" she heard herself asking. The black was nice. The black was serviceable. The black was appropriate, even.

No matter how much she wanted the red.

"What about the one you've got?" the attendant asked.

Tracy gave herself one final glance. No, passion would not be the downfall of Tracy Quartermaine. "It…just isn't right." And with that, she reached out, and took the black dress, with all its appropriate dowdiness intact, into the dressing room to try on.

The End


End file.
